


Exploding Fanta is Robin Culture

by robinlikeitshot



Series: DC Prompt Fills [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Crack, Explosions, Fire, Shenanigans, Young Justice - Freeform, delicious orange flavored beverages, fanta, tags will be updated along with fic, the licking of fanta off of ceilings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinlikeitshot/pseuds/robinlikeitshot
Summary: Dick Grayson and Tim Drake’s individual unfortunate encounters with carbonated orange flavored beverages.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Series: DC Prompt Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078127
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Exploding Fanta is Robin Culture

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> There is fanta on the ceiling. Which batboy licked the fanta off the ceiling and how did they do it?
> 
> yall know i had to do it to em
> 
> also everyone who is not in the defective comics server, I Swear This Has Nothing To Do With Me
> 
> ~anyway, this is a terrific prompt, that i stuffed full of absolute crack and terrible humor and terrible experiences. unfortunately i hit one k after only two robins, so i decided to cap it there~but like mentor like protege right?
> 
> enjoy!!

“Are you sure Batman will not find out?”

Dick rolls his eyes, leaning further out the window so he can grab Kori’s hand from where she’s floating over Alfred’s favorite lemon tree. “ _Yes_ , babe, I’m sure—and besides, he’s not going to be home for at least another hour. We’ll be fine!”

Kori still looks skeptical, but she finally floats in, hair dragging over the window sill last. Dick watches her with adoration in his eyes as she traces her fingers over the posters on the wall. She stops with a laugh when she reaches one of hers, carefully pulled out of a fashion magazine and taped. 

“Come here, boy wonder,” she smiles, and his heart skips that tiny beat as he steps closer, hands threading through her suspenders while hers hook in his belt loops, and she steps back—

_Bang._

They both drop into fighting stances, backs to each other as the case the room. Dick frowns, because what— 

“That tastes disgusting.” Dick watches in astonishment as another drop of orange falls perfectly on Kori’s outstretched tongue. His eyes snap up, to the ceiling that is _covered in orange Fanta._

He looks at Kori. She shrugs. He looks down, and sees an exploded Fanta bottle. He looks back up at her.

“Kori.” 

She catches another drop. “Dick.”

“Did you just explode a Fanta with your hair.” 

“With the amount of chemicals I can practically taste in this, it is a wonder it hasn’t exploded before,” she retorts, nose scrunching up as a drop hits her nose. One splashes in Dick’s hair.

“Okay, fair, but—”

Her hand over his mouth shuts him up. “Wait. Didn’t you say there was no one at your home?”

Dick frowns. “Yeah, Bruce is at work.”

Kori’s eyes widen. “Oh, then your home has an intruder in it! Quick, we must go capture them,” she whispers, tugging on his hand as she turns around.

He catches her before she can reach the door though, because _fuck he’d forgotten about Alfred._ "No that's—that's Alfred, Kori, fuck, we're going to be in so much trouble."

She looks up, thinking face on. Dick is immediately wary the second the light sparks inside of her eyes, and she looks at him with a smile. "I've got it! We won't have to get cleaning supplies if you just lick it off!"

Dick gapes. "Why _me_? You're the one who exploded it!"

"Well, you actually like the taste, so you have to lick it."

"Okay fine, but, how even—" He yelps as he is bodily lifted into the air, Kori snickering as he flails in her grip. 

"See? Perfect idea."

"Yeah, right," he mutters, arms going to wrap around her neck as his face gets dangerously close to the orange-smelling ceiling. 

"C'mon, Dick. Lick it." Dick takes a long suffering sigh, and licks the ceiling. Then he licks it again. It tastes like orange flavored cement, which after his last cooking experiment, honestly tastes kind of good?

"You know," he says, pausing to bend back and look at Kori. "This doesn't actually taste that bad."

"That's because you're heathen."

"This was your idea!"

*****

Tim has been staring at this case for two hours, but he still can’t figure out what he’s even supposed to be looking for. It’s not a real case, just a test from Batman, which means that there’s no adrenaline thrumming beneath his skin, a feeling that he’s trying to replace with a plethora of energy drinks.

If he was at the Manor, he would have to squirrel away his stash beneath his bed and drink them one at a time just in case Alfred walked in on him, but since he’s at the Cave for the weekend, he can scatter them out on his make-shift desk in little towers as he procrastinates from looking at his screen.

He’s about to absentmindedly reach for a bottle of artificially colored orange, when a gust of air blows past him, ruffling up his hair. Scowling, Tim quickly pats it back down, grimacing at the feel of dried gel as he shouts, “Impulse, get back here!”

Bart just laughs, zipping around the room and making the piles of paper Tim had carefully stacked on the ground fly up into the air. “Impulse!”

Tim’s head snaps to the side as a harried looking Superboy rushes through his open doorway. “I was watching him!” he replies sheepishly to Tim’s flat stare.

“Well you obviously weren’t doing a very good job,” Tim snaps, but before Kon can retort, Bart zooms over to Tim’s side, plucking the Fanta bottle from his hand.

“Ooh, what’s this?” Before Tim can snatch it back, the boy starts shaking it, except for with _super speed._

Tim and Kon both look at each other with horror as Bart keeps talking. “Isitabombnowaitisitpoisionitsgottobeapoisonrightoohorcoulditbeoneofthoseenergydrinkswowtheresalotofpreservativesinhere—”

_Bang_.

Bart’s face would be comical if Tim’s laptop were not currently soaked in orange Fanta. The boy looks down at the bottle, then back up at the ceiling, where the green cap has gotten stuck in the plaster. His hair has been flattened by at least 50%.

A snicker from his right cuts off his contemplations. “Are you seriously laughing right now?” Tim demands, turning to face Superboy incredulously.

Kon shrugs helplessly, grin still not leaving his face. “C’mon, you gotta admit that was at least kind of funny.”

“There is _Fanta_ on the _ceiling_.”

“Oh, so what,” Kon dismisses, turning to look back at Bart, who is shaking the Fanta bottle upside down to try and get any remaining drops. “Not like it’ll be _that_ hard to clean up.”

“Did someone say clean up?” Bart asks, zipping over to stand in front of them. “’Cause I kind of had to throw away all of our cleaning supplies this morning ‘cause I spilled dirt in the hallway but Ididn’trealizethatyou’renotsupposedtouseamopfordirtandthewholethingbecamedirtyandIdidn’tknowhowtowashitso—”

“Enough,” Tim says, trying to be the voice of reason here. “We can just go and get some more mops—”

But before he can finish the sentence, Bart is already somehow on the _ceiling_ after having run up the walls, balancing himself on top of the door and running his finger along a line of soda and bringing it to his _mouth_ —

“Hey! Stop that!” Tim orders, knocking the door when Bart doesn’t seem inclined to listen. Bart falls on top of a pile of dirty clothes, and looks at him sadly from the floor. Tim is not taken in by the puppy eyes. “You could get sick, Impluse.”

“Why? Not like there’s going to be poison on the ceiling, Mr. Paranoid,” Kon teases. Tim is about to respond that he was talking about germs, Superboy, stop being so immature—but his pride gets the better of him and what comes out instead is—

“There could be.”

Bart and Kon’s sniggers rub him the wrong way. “There so could be!” he defends, crossing his arms.

“Then prove it, Rob,” Kon says, looking back at him with just as much of a challenge.

“I will.”

It takes Tim five minutes to get up to the ceiling, and another two before he’s looking down at Kon with a pleading expression. Kon rolls his eyes, but when Tim steps off the ledge Superboy’s TTK holds him up in a secure blanket. 

It’s only when he reaches the ceiling that he realizes he forgot to bring his poison test kit up with him. And it’s not like he can go back _now_ , with both Superboy and Impulse looking expectantly up at him. But wait, hadn’t Batman taught him how to identify poisons by taste alone two weeks ago? 

Hoping Superboy didn’t make fun of him for it, Tim leans in and gives the ceiling a small lick. He frowns, swishing the flavor around in his mouth and ignoring the wheezing sounds coming from below him. 

No poison, but a substantial amount of dust. Tim takes another lick to make sure he hadn’t missed anything when—

“Ow! What was that for?” Tim asks, rubbing his head from where he’d fallen into a pile of empty Fanta cans. 

“Sorry, just—” Kon laughs, practically bent over. Bart is already on the ground. “You were licking the _ceiling_ , Rob. Man, I wish I’d gotten a pic of that!”

Tim scowls. “It was for _science_ ,” he mutters, but ends up choking on the last word when an extra large drop of Fanta falls into his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> requests are open till new years if yall want to pop over and drop me a prompt on tumblr! (@robinlikeitshot)


End file.
